Hiya Readers
Thanks for reading another chapter. 🙂
xoxo Dana
Chapter Three
Prudence links her arm through mine when we enter Bradford College’s Kelley Center for Fine Arts. Like always, she leads the way to our drawing class, happy and energetic. “Seriously, though, how was the party?”
“It could’ve gone better.” We separate at the stairs, and she takes them two at a time. “I wish you’d come.”
She throws a grin over her shoulder, and we reach the top landing. “Cynthia was having a freak-out per usual. I spent the whole night in our living room, helping her study for her exam tomorrow morning, and I’m sure I’ll do the same tonight too. The things we do for friends.”
“That’s why you’re such a good friend.” I match my pace to hers, and her olive face lights up with a smile. “Jimmy was a little disappointed you two didn’t make it, though.”
She releases a sharp bark of laughter. “Only a little?”
Jimmy was more than a little disappointed at the end of the night. He drunkenly texted me to ask why Cynthia was a no-show. I didn’t bother responding. I was too busy starting my Calc III homework at two in the morning.
The door to the drawing studio is open, and we take our regular drawing horses on the far side of the room. The fluorescent lights are on, but the room is primarily illuminated by the awning windows spanning the south wall. Our model typically takes a seat on the barstool sitting atop the small center stage, and we each have a different perspective from our individual benches. But the model isn’t anywhere in sight today, and neither is our instructor.
I drop my bag next to the bench and locate my eighteen-by-twenty-four-inch newspaper pad and supply box in my cubby.
“We’re doing lunch today, right?” Prudence asks when I return. She’s shed her backpack and jacket beneath her drawing horse and has rolled up the sleeves of her peasant blouse. Her pretty brown hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.
“Will Cynthia make it?”
As often as I see Prudence—quite often due to this class, our Honors Program activities, and living in the same building—Cynthia is rarely in sight. A disappointment for Jimmy any time he “happens” to run into us and say hi. He’s so obvious.
Prudence frowns. “She said she’ll try, but I think when she said that, she forgot about the exam in the morning, so probably not.”
I nod. “Alright.”
“Hey!”
I shift in my seat—and Prudence turns too—to look at the drawing horse on my other side, now occupied by Dahlia Finnick.
A grin spreads across her heart-shaped face, and when I smile back, she pushes a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. “You left the party early, Billie. We didn’t get to hang out at three in the morning after everyone else left.” She shrugs her bag onto the floor. “That’s the best part.”
I shake my head and flip open my drawing pad. “I would’ve stayed longer, but I had some shit with my mom that couldn’t wait.”
Felix Quigley comes in a moment later to introduce the lesson, and Prudence and Dahlia grab their drawing pads and supplies from the cubby wall.
“Alright, folks!” He marches over to a small corner table and connects his phone to the Bluetooth speaker. “Our model’s off for the day, so I need everyone to choose a partner. We’re going to take turns drawing portraits. A few five and ten-minute drawings. I want you using the charcoal or Conte crayons for this.”
Dahlia plops down in her seat with a grin. “Partners?”
“Uh, sure.”
Prudence walks back to her drawing horse, carrying her pad and a pack of Conte crayons. I send her a smile while Dahlia scoots her horse closer.
“You pose.”
I shift uncertainly.
“Something comfy, but make it interesting.”
I stretch my shoulders while she pulls out a piece of vine charcoal, then flips to a fresh page in her pad, but when her intense gaze lands on me again, my muscles tense. I can’t imagine I’m doing anything interesting, but she presses her charcoal to the page all the same.
If she’s concentrating, it’s impossible to tell. Her arm moves fluidly, her motions are brazen, but she spends most of her time studying me instead of focusing on the paper.
“Brent said he had fun hanging out with you.”
The room is filled with idle chatter, but the primary sound is that of Felix’s music. Ace of Base’s “The Sign” is the first song on today’s playlist.
“He did?”
“Of course, silly.” Dahlia grins, then glances down at her drawing again. “I can’t believe I hadn’t introduced you before. We’ve lived together for two and a half months. How is that possible?”
I want to shrug, but I’m not supposed to move. “I don’t know.”
“Especially when I’ve already met your friends.”
At this, I shift to get a better look at her. “You have?”
“Oh, are we switching positions?” She is unfazed by my movement. She simply flips to another page and begins a new drawing. “My brother and I have been organizing parties since the day we arrived, and people started paying us after the first semester—mostly the frat boys, mind you, because all the others we did for fun.”
Brent did say that she and Darius planned the party.
“And your…friend, Xander—well, he went to every party we put together last year. Always flirting with the girls and dragging Jim behind him.” Dahlia pauses to laugh. “He doesn’t do that anymore, does he?”
I shake my head but make sure to return to my position. “He got a job off campus when he got back. He even came early and lived in his car for a week while job hunting—” something he hasn’t explained in the months since “—and he’s been too busy working.”
“Where’s that?”
“A bar downtown.”
She withdraws her charcoal from the page. “Which one?”
“Oh, it’s called Draft Horse. It’s a restaurant too, and they do a whole big thing for the Kentucky Derby—it’s their signature event or something.” I bite my lip, uncertain. “I’ve never been there.”
Dahlia cocks an eyebrow.
“I don’t go anywhere off campus. It’s too…stressful.”
She studies me a moment before returning to the drawing. “You’re majoring in art, right? I am too—well, Arts Administration. It’s great to find someone who likes the same sort of things you do, isn’t it?”
I blink a moment, unsure how we got from there to here, but I suppose, like Dahlia, I have to roll with the punches. “Yeah.” I don’t know which of her questions I’m answering, or maybe it’s both, but a big smile spreads across her delicate features.
“I’ve watched your drawings during class. You’re really talented. I can’t wait to see what you do with me. And Xander’s your boyfriend?”
I nearly fall off the drawing horse. “What?”
Where the hell did that come from?
But Dahlia smiles at me, either unaware of how random and personal her question is or not caring.
“No, he’s not.”
“But you want him to be, right?” She pauses a second to examine her work before flipping to the next sheet.
“We’re friends,” I say slowly. “I’m not interested in dating.”
She inhales sharply. “He must be pretty disappointed.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
This is Xander—he’s always fine.
“Besides,” I add, “he has plenty of women to choose from here, and he’s making his rounds. He’s certainly not holding out for me.” I force a laugh, then remember I’m not supposed to move. “That’s ridiculous. Seriously laughable.”
Dahlia chuckles too. “Funny story, actually. Halloween last year, Jim was tipsy—from one beer—and talking about this girl he had a crush on, and Xander started berating him for not having any idea how to woo a woman—which he then proceeded to demonstrate on a randomly chosen victim. But the best part was, as sloppy as his so-called seduction was, she kissed him. Probably helped that he was dressed as Deadpool.” She sends me a grin, but I can’t return it. “Sorry, it was one of those you-had-to-be-there moments. They only made out for a few minutes.”
I vaguely recall the costume—he got so drunk that Jimmy, who had happily dressed as Spiderman, had to drag him back to their dorm room at three in the morning, and I was still awake. David helped us get him in bed. That was the first time Xander got seriously drunk, and I haven’t seen him that bad since.
But the costume. It was well assembled and tight enough to not leave much to the imagination. Not that I was looking. If he had worn that Friday night, on the other hand…I might have considered paying attention.
“I’m sure it was funny.” My voice is flat. “My turn to draw, right?”
As the period comes to a close, Felix switches off his music and unsyncs the Bluetooth. The room falls silent. “Thanks for a great lesson, folks. Remember, we’ll do our critique next class, so make sure you have all your drawings from the last month ready.”
I close my sketchpad, and Dahlia and I stow our things in the cubbies.
“You don’t have plans for lunch, do you?” she asks as she dons her cross-shoulder purse.
I open my mouth, but in the distance, Prudence is putting away her supplies. “I do actually.”
“Can’t you reschedule?” Dahlia doesn’t pause for a response. “You need to eat lunch with us so I can properly introduce you to everyone.”
I open my mouth, hesitant. “Maybe, but—”
Dahlia squeals. Before I can protest, she clasps her hand around mine and tugs me toward the classroom exit, leaving Prudence behind.
In the sea of students, the cafeteria’s mass of circular tables are difficult to discern. We swipe our ID cards at the reception desk, and Dahlia leads me inside the hall, her hand clamped around mine. To the right, each buffet has a line of at least a dozen students, waiting for food, and Dahlia inhales sharply at the sight before making a dogleg turn toward her regular table.
I’ve seen her in the cafeteria a few times, but we’ve never eaten together. Her table is always full, as it is now.
She marches, but I shuffle behind. “Look who I found,” she announces when we arrive.
The group of seven turns to greet us. Most of the faces I recognize from the party or around campus, but a couple are new. Brent, a small smile on his face, scoots away to make room for us.
Dahlia pulls up a second chair next to the empty one, nudges me into the new seat, and collapses into the chair between me and Brent.
Brent stretches his arm around her to shake my hand, and I hesitantly place my fingers in his firm grip. “Hey, Billie.” He releases me immediately, and I retreat.
“Let me introduce you to everybody,” Dahlia says. “This is Darius.”
She nods toward the guy across the table. They have the same heart-shaped face, the same wavy honey-brown hair, the same smile. The last time I saw him, he was face-down on the ground in a poorly assembled toga, drunk off his ass.
“My idiot brother,” she adds before pointing out each group member in clockwise order. “Emily, Anna, Brian, Heath, Elias, and this here is Kai.”
Kai, sitting on my right, sends me a toothy grin, and the group murmurs an array of quiet hellos.
“Everyone, this is Billie.” Dahlia positively beams. “She’s one of my suitemates and my new favorite friend.”
I frown at her words—surely someone here would be upset by her use of the word “favorite”—but everyone smiles, and I say, “Hi,” in the quietest of voices. My face contorts into an uncomfortable smile.
Despite her declaration, the group is hardly interested in me. It only takes a minute for them to return to their previous conversations, and I sit, the blood beating through my eardrums, drowning out their voices.
My stomach clenches, and I have nothing to do with my hands. We should’ve gotten drinks first.
I push away from the table. The chair squeaks against the floor, and there’s a lull in conversation as they glance my way. “I’m getting a drink,” I whisper to Dahlia. The corners of her mouth lift into a small smile.
On the other side of the cafeteria, clutching a cup of ice water, I roll my shoulders and twist my neck. But I cannot relax.
Somehow, this is worse than the party. At least no one knew or cared about me there. Here, I’m expected to have a conversation with people whose names I’ve already forgotten.
I refill my cup when it’s empty and take another sip before perusing the buffet lines in search of something interesting. None of the food options look appetizing.
When I turn away from the drink station, my eyes land on the familiar bespectacled face of my best friend. For the first time in the last hour, my smile is real.
Jimmy stops next to me with a matching foam to-go box and cup. “Hey. How was your drawing class?”
I shrug. “Same as always. What’re you doing here? I thought you were doing a full study session before your test at two.”
“Thus the to-go box.” He brandishes it toward me. “You’re eating with Prudence today, right? I figured I’d stop and say hi while I was here.”
I roll my eyes. “You wanted to see Cynthia.”
But then, I catch myself and turn toward the mass of tables to find them. Prudence is sitting at a table near the entrance with a couple other girls. True to form, Cynthia isn’t present.
“Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “Just something I have to fix later.”
Jimmy frowns, and I almost laugh. He looks constipated when he’s overthinking things.
“Say it.”
He releases a half laugh, half sigh. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“What?”
He fills his cup at the drink station, and I follow. “Didn’t see you much this weekend. You disappeared in the middle of the party.”
“I told you, I got tired.” I try to shrug it off, but his tone is too nonchalant. He’s not buying it. “And I picked up a couple extra shifts at the library this weekend.”
“I thought that might be the case.” He slips a lid onto the cup and grabs a straw. “Walk with me while I grab food?”
We head for the buffet lines.
“You know…” He grabs a bun, then lays a burger from the grill on the bottom half. “Things have been kinda weird the last few days.”
“Really?” I sip my water to hide my interest. “How so?”
He finishes dressing the burger before glancing back. “Xander’s been in a bit of a foul mood lately, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it.” He tops the burger with the other half of the bun and moves on to the next section. “I mean, he was totally fine when I saw him at the party, but he’s been a bigger ass than normal since then.”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s not weird for Xander to be an ass.”
He lets out a short laugh. “Which is why I said ‘bigger than normal.'” But his smile drops from his face. “Besides, if Xander’s in a bad mood, it’s usually because of you.”
A scoff escapes my lips. “I’m not responsible for keeping his temper in check. He’s a grown adult, not a child, and he should act like one.”
He tries to hold it back—I can see it on his freckled face—but he still releases a loud snort. “Right, because you’re so good at keeping yours in check. Don’t be a hypocrite, Billie.”
I take another drink. I don’t want to answer the question. I can only hope I’ve successfully evaded it.
“So, you have no idea why Xander’s pissed off right now?”
No such luck.
I shake my head.
Jimmy sighs. “Right.” And he moves on to grab some pasta salad.
I gulp down more of my drink.
“It’s funny, though. Xander tells me everything, so if he’s upset about work or class or whatever, he vents to me.” He returns the serving spoon and closes his box. “You’re the only thing he’s kept from me.”
I don’t have the capacity to restrain myself anymore—I scowl. “We might’ve had a spat before I left the party, but it wasn’t really anything. I don’t know why he’s so upset about it.”
For a moment, Jimmy watches me, waiting for me to elaborate.
I say nothing.
“What happened?”
My chest constricts, and I look around the cafeteria in search of anything else to focus on. “It was nothing. I was on the phone with my mom, and he kept bugging me, so I told him to leave me alone. He was being ridiculous.”
Jimmy raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s the whole story.”
“It is.”
“Right, of course.” And then, he lifts his box in the air and steps toward the exit. “I should get going, do my last-minute cramming.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”
Jimmy’s walk to the cafeteria exit is short, and I watch him leave before heading back to Dahlia and Brent and whoever else is at that table. I guess I have to socialize again.
Dahlia’s face breaks into a smile when I sit down. “What took so long?”
